Macnuthrie, from Callender, was of
opinion that no steps should be taken at present. Mr. Kennedy was
very ill,--very ill indeed; would take no nourishment, and seemed to
be sinking under the pressure of his misfortunes. Any steps such as
those suggested would probably send their friend out of the world at
once.
In fact Robert Kennedy was dying;--and in the first week of May, when
the beauty of the spring was beginning to show itself on the braes of
Loughlinter, he did die. The old woman, his mother, was seated by his
bedside, and into her ears he murmured his last wailing complaint.
"If she had the fear of God before her eyes, she would come back to
me." "Let us pray that He may soften her heart," said the old lady.
"Eh, mother;--nothing can soften the heart Satan has hardened, till
it be hard as the nether millstone." And in that faith he died
believing, as he had ever believed, that the spirit of evil was
stronger than the spirit of good.
For some time past there had been perturbation in the mind of that
cousin, and of all other Kennedys of that ilk, as to the nature of
the will of the head of the family.
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